Club Desire(5)

By: Amy Brent




My cock started to chub up a little.


I lowered my voice and gave her a little smile. “Tell me what you think you know. I’ll confirm or deny honestly. But it has to be off the record.”


“Off the record?” The smile faded from her lips as quickly as it came. She muttered, searching for words. “But… I thought…”


I held up my hands to shush her. “Do you want the truth, or not?”


“I do, but...”


“Then tell me what you think you know.” I sat back with my fingers laced across my stomach, giving her a look that told her there was no negotiation. She might get confirmation of her suspicions, but wouldn’t be able to tell a soul without my lawyer ripping her a new one the size of Texas.


“Fine,” she huffed. She crossed her arms over her tits and gave me a pouty look. “Rumor has it that you and your partners, Denny Chambers and Sammy Branniff, started Club D three years ago as your own private, members-only sex club in an old estate somewhere north of the city. You patterned it after the sex club in the movie, Eyes Wide Shut, which was about Tom Cruise getting involved in an underground sex club for rich men.”


I nodded thoughtfully and said, “For the record, I hate Tom Cruise movies, but please, continue.”


The corner of her mouth twitched. She said, “To qualify for membership, the men must have a minimum of one-hundred-million dollars in net worth, donate a million dollars to a charity mandated by the club, and be personally approved by the three partners.”


“So, it’s a charitable organization,” I said. “How noble.”


She smiled at that one. “Supposedly, the place is run by an ex-mafioso named Mr. Lemon. My research leads me to believe that Mr. Lemon is Monte Lemon, who just happens to be Sammy Branniff’s uncle.” She paused, stared at me, waiting for confirmation. She got none. “The club is staffed entirely by beautiful women who are there to serve at the whims of the members. It’s basically a brothel.”


“A brothel?” I hummed at her. “Now there’s a term you don’t hear too often these days.”


She cut me a hard look. She was getting frustrated, squirming in the chair again. I fucking loved it. She said, “Yes, well, that may be, Mr. Hanson, but what else would you call a place where men go to fuck women for money?”


I had to smile at the size of her balls. I leaned forward and spread out my hands again. “I’d call it a safe place where a man could escape the rigors of this cruel world for a few hours and enjoy the company and pleasures of a beautiful, alluring woman such as yourself without worrying about reporters—again, such as yourself— telling the world about it.”


That one stunned her for a moment. She licked her lips because she had talked them dry and took a deep breath that made her nostrils flare. Christ, she really was a beautiful woman, but I knew Monte Lemon well enough to know that he had not given her the card.


I put on a scolding face. “Stacey, do you really believe that there’s a private club where rich men go to party and have sex with gorgeous women?”


She blinked at me. “Well, I don’t know. The rumors are—”


“Just that,” I said, holding up a hand. “Rumors.”


I let my eyes drift down her face, down her neck, down to the cleavage that was trying to work its way from the top of her blouse. Her eyes followed mine. When we both gazed up, she was biting her lip.


“Where did you get that card?” I asked, still holding her gaze.


“A girl at the office gave it to me,” she said, licking her lips again, swallowing hard. I could almost smell the juices oozing from between her legs.


“What girl?”


“The receptionist. She said she was approached by a man in a club where she moonlighted as a bartender. He told her she was far too gorgeous to be working there.”


“And was she?” I asked, my voice going husky as I imagined kissing her nipples.


She gave me a blank look. “Was she what?”


“Too attractive to be working there?”


“Well, I don’t know… I mean… she is very attractive.”


“As attractive as you?” I asked.


Her tongue went across her lips again, but she didn’t respond.


“What else did this man tell her?” I asked. I pushed myself out of the chair and came around to lean against the edge of the desk in front of her. My cock was plumping up like a ballpark frank. I caught her checking out the bulge that was snaking down the right side of my jeans.


She swallowed the lump that was in her throat and blinked at me. “Um… well… he told her that she could make ten times the money working for him. Then he handed her the card and disappeared.”

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